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"Hello to you too, sweetheart," I offered. "Did you bring a regiment of soldiers with you or is it just the two of you?" I flicked a glance at the actual soldier in the room and tried to place him. I couldn't, but he did look vaguely familiar to me.
"Just us," Jack said as the handcuffs came free. I was pulled up and wrapped in his arms in the next breath, his face buried in the side of my neck, his chest heaving.
I held on just as tightly as he held on to me. Or as tightly as my shoulder would allow. Jack noticed, of course, and quickly administered first aid. For the first time since landing back in the 21st Century, I didn't feel any pain. Jack was here. Jack was holding onto me. Holding me together.
Part of me had truly thought he had been lost to me. But then, he was a time-travelling Surgeon, he could always have come back and visited me. It gave a whole new meaning to long-distance relationships. But it would have been possible.
"I don't want to stay here," I told Jack's chest as I clung to his body.
"None of us wants to stay here, Dr Wylde," the soldier told me. "And neither should we for long."
I pulled back from Jack and looked at the soldier. "Hello," I greeted. "Mimi Wylde, science geek, usually out-of-time time traveller, and honorary Intern at the Royal Academy of Time Surgeons, 23rd century. Pleased to meet you."
"You aren't just an honorary Intern," Jack corrected me. "You've earned your place at RATS, Mouse."
The soldier ignored him and concentrated on me, while still keeping an eye on the now silent corridor outside the interrogation room. "Staff Sergeant Charles Crawford, His Majesty's Army, SAS, 22nd century. Pleased to meet you, too, ma'am."
"Crawford," I said. "You're Clive's son?"
"Yes, and my father would not be impressed if I didn't complete this mission to his satisfaction." He checked the corridor again. "Shall we, Doctors?"
"Yes," Jack said, slipping his hand into mine and entwining our fingers. "Let's get the hell out of here."
Charles nodded his head and led the way out of the building. I was surprised to see that the two of them had done so much damage, and yet not one of the downed NASA security people was dead, just unconscious. Some looked like they might have been tasered, others had clearly been choked out. And still a few sported nasty contusions on the side of their heads. It was the ones who slept peacefully that I watched the closest.
How long did someone stay unconscious for when they've had their airway blocked off? Or had Charles crushed an artery or something? I didn't know how ninja soldiers did their thing; I was simply speculating.
Despite my misgivings, though, we made it out of the Launch Control Center building without confronting any opposition. I was rather impressed with this two-man stealth team. I glanced up at Jack. Some of the tension had left his features, but he was still a little too wide-eyed for my liking. Charles, on the other hand, looked relaxed, alert, and deadly. He was in his element, whereas Jack was hanging on by the tips of his fingers.
I squeezed his hand, and he looked down at me, offering a beautiful smile. We didn't speak. No words were needed. Just having him at my side made it easier to breathe. I touched my chest, felt my heart beating, then reached over and patted the broad expanse of Jack's pecs. His heart was beating as fast as mine was, I was sure, but all I could feel was hard muscle and let's be honest here, that was rather distracting.
I could hardly believe he was actually here, though. My mind kept stalling on that salient fact. He'd come for me. Despite Anderson and the Prime Minister's interference at RATS. Despite Time and the sometimes arbitrary rules it demanded of us. Jack had risked everything to come and get me.
And he'd brought appropriately trained backup.
The Orion had been well hidden, but then, when you can just call it to you from another plane, camouflaging it with tree branches isn't exactly necessary. It winked into sight, and what a sight for sore eyes it was. In seconds, we were all aboard and Jack had shifted planes again.
I let out a relieved breath of air and almost fell into the Intern's seat.
"Poor Agents Dawson and Carter," I murmured. "They're having a very bad day."
"How much did you tell them?" Jack asked, checking his console.
"Enough to get Time to notice me, which was probably too much, but they didn't really believe me. So, no harm, no foul, right?"
Jack turned slightly to look at me. "I don't think you needed to get Time's attention. Time is very focused on you right now."
"What does that mean?" I sounded like Agent Dawson.
Jack ran a hand through his hair and then scratched at his scar. He scratched that damn scar longer than he usually did. He must have been thinking of Sergei. The man who had given him that very same scar.
"When you met Sergei on your last trip to Russia with Bryan," Jack started, confirming my suspicions, "did he seem different to you?"
"In what way?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. Older. Younger. Wearing the wrong clothes. Saying the wrong things."
I frowned as I tried to figure out what Jack's point was. "Do you think I killed a younger version of him and have upset Time or something?" I eventually asked.
